Evening Star Newspaper, December 13, 1931, Page 95

N, D. C, DECEMBER 13, 1931. y of Brothers in Love—BY ELINOR MAXWELL “What are you looking at?” the knob and jerked the door open. The nauseating mustiness of that hall sprang up and greeted us likke a slap in the face, With one accord we started to run toward the stair- way. Stumbling, staggering, panting, we reached the foot of the steps, the front door. Under our united force, the heavy, panclled thing creaked, groaned and finally opened. In the street and with the rain beating against our faces, we slackened our pace. Out in God’'s air at last! OHN answered our ring at the Elkins house and took us into the drawing room. Lights glowed in two or three lamps and a coal fire offered warmth and cheer. The old man looked at us sharply as we sank down upon a lounge and almost simultaneously uttered a sigh of exhaustion. “Mrs. Millard,” he began sappre- hensively, then hesitated. “Is there anything I can do? Has anything gone wrong?” Katharine wearily returned his anxious gaze. “Yes, John,” she said, “something has gone wrong. Is the family up yet? Of course, I realize that it is very early.” “Mr. Elkins always rises at 7,” John replied, “and is now dressing. Mr, Peter is in his bath and Mr. George, I imagine, will be down shortly. He arrived from Philadelphia on a very late train last night, but asked to be called at 7. Mrs. Elkins, of course, always has her breakfast in bed at 1i.” “That is just as well,” Katharine replied. “If Mr. George is up, you may tell him that Mrs. Kelly and I are hepe and ask him to come down as soon as possible.” A white line ap- peared about her mouth and for an instant I thought she was going to faint. John sprang to her side and placed a pillow back of her head. “Some brandy, Mrs, Mil- lard?” he inquired anxiously. Katharine rested her head against the pil- low and closed her eyes. “Some black coffee, John,” she replied, “please.” The old servant left the room and for five minutes Katharine and I, depleted, drained, sat there in silence. Then the door opened. It was Peter who entered. John, carrying a silver tray containing a steaming coffee pot and two cups, followed close upon his heels. He told Peter we were there. “My dear Katharine,” Peter exclaimed, com- ing quickly to the lounge where we sat, and taking both her hands in his. “My dear, dear child, what has happened? Your face is ghastly. Your hands are like ice.” Katharine opened her month, but no words came. Peter turned to me. “Mrs. Kelly, what terrible thing has occurred? You, too, poor girl, look as if you had been through an ordeal.” “Ob, we have, Mr. Elkins” I cried. “We have.” “Where is George?” Katharine asked. Peter’s lips were grim, his face white. “Here 1 am,” came Ccorge's voice from the hall. He could be heard descending the steps, and a second later rushed into the room. “Katharine, darling,” he exclaimed, as he saw her drawn face. “My God, what is the matter?” “We were robbed last night,” she announced in a voce that was husky with emotion. “Robbed,” exclaimed Peter. “Good Lord! How terrible!” George seated himself on the edge of the lounge next to Katharine. “Tell me about it,” he commanded tersely. “Peter told me when I got in from Philadelphia that you and Mrs. Kelly were spending the night in your house and I thought then that I wished—that I wished you weren’t.” “Yes,” remarked Peter, drawing a cflalr up to the lounge and seating himself squarely before Katharine. “Yes, I told George the minute he got in that you were in the house next door.” We glanced at Peter in surprised questioning. There was a peculiar sound in his voice, a hid- den meaning in the tone. George, however, con- cerned over Katharine's story, apparently no- ticed nothing. Katharine hesitated a moment, then went on. “Mrs. Kelly had gone to bed and I was sitting before the dressing table which faces the door that leads into the hall, We have transoms, you know, just as you have here. Suddenly, I looked into the mirror, saw the reflection of the door and transom in it and, looking at me through the transom—a Iace.” She shuddered and covered her eyes with her hands as i#f to shut out that hideous memory. George, his blue eyes tender with love and sympathy, drew her hands from her face and held them tightly in his own. “Poor little girl,” he said softly. “Ah, dearest, don’ tremble so! It's all over now, Katharine, darl- ing, be calm. You are in my house now, dear, and safe from all harm.” “What happened then, Mrs. Kelly?” Peter asked, turning to me. I could have sworn that his hands were clenched in his pockets as he looked at the two on the lounge. “Katharine took off her jewels,” I informed him, trying not to betray the emotion that ; X too, felt, “and placed them in her handbag. Then she put the bag on the mantel, turned off the light and came to bed. You see, the door into the hall was unlocked and it was inevitable that the thief should get into the “What time was this, Katharine?” Peter in- quired with a certain definite, grim determina- tion in his voice. “It must have been an hour after you left us,” I volunteered. “About 2 o’clock.” “About 2 o’clock,” Peter repeated in that same peculiar tone he had employed a few seconds before. Then, fixing his gaze on his elder brother, “George, you returned to this house at a quarter past 1.” ATHARINE and I both involuntarily sat up straight. That Peter’'s tones carried a hid- den accusation was now unmistakable. Only George was unaware of it. “Why, yes,” he answered; “yes, I did get in a quarter past 1, and ycu told me that you had taken Katharine and Mrs. Kelly home.” “The robbery occurred about 2 o’'clock?” Peter continued. *Just 45 minutes after you got in; time enough* for any one to have thought that Katharine and Mrs. Kelly had gorne to sleep.” I glanced at Katharine uneasily, but her dark, unflinching gaze was upon Peter. “Just what are you in inferring, Peter?” she demanded in cool, even tones. Peter rose from his chair and pointed a finger at his brother. “I am inferring,” he hissed, “that you, George Elkins, know something about this robbery.” George got unsteadily to his feet, his face drained of every vestige of color. “My God, Peter,” he whispered, “you don't know what you are saying! Don’t listen to him, Katharine. He must be mad!” “To the contrary,” snapped Peter, “I am very sane. If you doubt me, Katharine, ask my brother to empty his pockets.” “Peter,” groaned George, “what has got into you? Are you crazy?” We were all on our feet now, staring wildly at each other, “You may think I'm crazy,” Peter returned shortly, “but let yourself be searched. Prove, if you can, that you are innocent.” George looked despairingly at Peter. “Stop,” he commanded in a quiet voice. “Do you want our mother to hear your ridiculous accusations? And, if it will give vou any satisfaction, search me yourself.” “I will,” returned Peter, not lowering his veice at all. Springing toward George, he dug a hand into each of the elder brother’s coat pockets. Fascinated, we witnessed this startling pro- cedure. Amazed, we beheld Peter Elkins’ hands emerge from George's pockets, dripping with diamonds and platinum—XKatharine’s bracelets, Katharine's pearls, Katharine’s square diamond! George reeled and fell back into the cushions of the lounge, one hand to his heart, his mouth twisting convulsively. “I—I don't know how they got there,” he gasped. “Believe me, Katharine, if you can. I don’t know how they got there.” “You don’t know,” gibed Peter with splendid derision. “You haven’t an idea, I suppose. Well, Katharine, as much as it hurts me to discover this terrible thing about my brother, I must say that it is well for you that his true character has been revealed before it is too late.” “What do you mean?” Katharine demanded, her gaze burning through narrowed lids. “Too late for what?” FA'THERS Continued from Fourth Fage The parents would rather have them wait until they are older, and in the meantime let them find other means of gratification. “Parents naturally believe that boys and girls in their teens can’t be mature enough to choose their mates. But here, again, aren’t they as- suming too much? They let these kids do very much as they please. They can have their own cars and spending money. They can read what- ever books they want and see sophisticated shows. They can drink and go off to road- houses. But when it comes to picking a mate, they suddenly become babies. If they are ma- ture enough to have liberties of all sorts, then they are mature enough to marry. And it's a good thing for them to do so. “If the parents think that the attachment is an infatuation, they can urge the boy and girl to wait. It will blow over soon enough. But if they stick, let them marry. The parents may not believe that they are making a wise choice, but I can't see that older people choose with any more judgment. The bright idea today is to marry for love, but no one is educated to know what love is. That is the reason so many people end up in the divorce courts, whether they marry early or later. “As a matter of fact, I think the youthful marriage has a better chance te last. The boy and girl are more devoted to each other and more likely to stick through adversities. They respond more readily to changes. The trouble is, in handling youth today, we not only don’'t give them credit for how little they know but for how much they feel. They are so lonely and so pathetically eager for affection that when they find some one they love they are twice as loyal as the more mature person would be under the same circumstances.” HEN asked about any possible changes in soclal standards and customs, Miss Per- kins stated that she could not see any indica~ tions of it today. “The fact is,” she observed, “that we need some real red-blooded men to handle the sit- uation. But where are they? Men today seem to be of a weak caliber. Women are walking on their toes, and they don’t do a thing about it. They just sit back and let the flood of feminism rise over their heads. They don’t assert themselves in the home; they don’t insist on their right to have a hand in the training of their sons. A woman can’t bring up a boy. She makes a nincompoop of him. Shg keeps him tied to her apron strings so long and coddles him so much that he can’t do any vital work in the world. He isn’t virile encugh to interest women. “The fault lies with the man. He only in- terests himself in business and doesn’t concern himself with anything else. He lets the woman “Everybody knows that George has been love with you for the past year and that you were l@anmg toward him, but weren't quite sure that you cared. Had it not been for this painful occurrence you might——" “Had it not been for this painful occurrencéy as you so aptly put it,” Katharine replied levell; “I might have been fool enough not to mar him.” “Katharine,” breathed George. “Yes?” prompted Peter. His face was white, but his eyes burned with a strange fire. “I mean,” Katharine continue, “that I migh# have gone on being blind to all his dear guala ities. I might have been imbecile enough not to know that I cared.” “Katharine, you would marry a man whd steals your jewels?” “On the contrary,” replied Katharine throughf clenchéd teeth, “I am going to marry hi§ brother. I happen to know, Peter, that it wag you who entered my room last night and ree moved that bag from the mantel. Unfortunaté as it was at the time, you lost one finger from} your right hand while you were fighting in France. My house has been closed for month§ and dust is thick on everything—including the mantel. This morning I discovered the distincf print of three fingers and a thumb made by you, Peter, when you were feeling for thaf beaded bag in the dark.” “And you accused me, your brother,” cried George. “How dare——" He would have struck Peter had not Kathw arine rushed between them and thrown heg arms around George’s neck. PE’IER'S hands were clenched in his pockets, Down in the depths of the blue eyes all hope had fled, but he smiled at Katharine, & brave smile of complete surrender. Manlike, he shrugged to hide his hurt. “When a brother i8 just too blind to know when a barrier, like stones, is the only thing that stands in theé way of happiness, then somebody must use his head. You see, I am leaving at once for Buenog Aires. I had to see you two settled before ¥ left, and this was the only way of bringing about. Iknewthattlllhadtodom&oz George in bad, and Katharine would do rest!” He smiled teasingly, a pathetic, courns geous smile, and held out his hand. “May I wislj you luck?” George gripped his hand and Katharine’§ eyes filled with tears as she drew his head dewn and kissed him. “You are a wonderful brother, she said softly. | Peter turned and left the room. Q “Darling,” cried George, catching Katharing to him. “My own darling,” and bending, he reverently kissed her lovely, trembling mouth, | There was a catch in my throat as, un I turned and went to the window, ostensibly view Sixtieth street by the light of an Al morning. » (Copyright, 1931.) i manage the home and children as she p] He lets her manage him. Andletmemm although the woman may at first enjoy manage ing her husband, she soon begins to feel that he is inadequate and loses respect for him, She either treats him as she would a little boy or makes a doormat of him. “The truth is that woman is not capable of managing. She not only hasn’t had the ing for the role, but she isn’t fitted for it. Look at the home and marriage today as a result of her management. Look at the irresponsible youngsters and the effeminate boys. The power is in her hands, but she isn’t doing anything worth while with it. . 11| HAVE the old-fashioned idea that the man should be the head of the house and have the final authority. For the most part, things work out better when he does the managing, Women have always achieved more for theme selves and for the race when men were at the head. And the family itself was kept more intact. “A woman’s nature and temperament are such that she usually goes to pieces when unexpected situations come up. When she wants a thing done in a certain way and # doesn’t work out in just that manner, she bee comes nervous and upset. This makes for tension in the home. “The feministic idea of marriage was for it to be established on a fifty-fifty basis. Theow retically, it was a fine idea. But in reality there are few people who are intelligent enought to work it out. A fifty-fifty relationship means that ‘I will give 100 per cent. I will make these sacrifices. I will manage only thesd thi:xgs and let the other person manage the rest.’ “But most people cannot do this, They want to have it all their own way. And it is the women who get their way.” (Copyright, 1931.) Infant League Now Mighty Some 15 or 20 years ago, when the Dfl‘« men’s League was formed in New York State to aid the milk producers in their fight fog better prices for their products, little idea wad had of what the movement might grow into A survey recently conducted by the Federal Farm Board has disclosed that the co-operam tive movement started then was the forerunnef of a movement which has brought about the forming in the 12 States from West Virginia to Maine of 95 co-operatives embracing a menss . bership of 126,100 farmers, who produce 611,000 worth of milk products. This is over half of the total dairy products produce tion of this area. i